The Little Monk: A World of Warcraft Fable
by ArchangelRaphael
Summary: Sit, and let me tell you the tale of Remiel Sharpe. A young, clever, pious monk, who, by merely existing, became embroiled in an adventure like none ever told... Review please, me likey reviews!
1. Prologue: Shadows and Secrets

A Note from Above: As said before, I don't own Blizzard, WoW, or any aspect of the WarCraft universe (as desperatley as I have tried...), so don't send any thugs to break my legs.

* * *

**The Little Monk - A World of Warcraft Fable. **

* * *

**Prologue: Shadows and Secrets**

The room was dark, almost pitch-black, the only light being a single window, letting in what little moonlight it could. Two figures moved in silence, arranging things, fixing things, preparing things. They wore black, ravens against a night sky, their hoods and masks obscuring their features.

"Do we act?" one figured mutters, bending over a fog-filled sphere. He moves his hands over it, whispering a complex incantation.

"Not yet." The other figure replies just as quietly, pushing books into a shelf, following an order only he knows.

The two fall silent again, going about their appointed tasks, moving speedily and dextrously despite the near-blinding darkness. At some invisible cue, they both move to the table, and hunch over the now crystal-clear sphere.

An image appeared with startling clarity, that of a very well-dressed lady, speaking with a young child. She carries herself regally, and her face is haughty, even contemptuous. Her eyes glint with a feral delight, then disappear, unfathomable pools deeper than even the Maelstrom.

The two figures exchange glances over the sphere, a great tension now permeating the room.

"The situation is desperate." "Desperate indeed." "Do we act?"

One figure sits, contemplative. The other paces, clearly agitated. The sitting one stands, and waves his hand over the sphere. An image of a small robed figure is seen.

"Not yet...The pieces are about to fall in place..."

A rumble overhead. A storm is coming.

* * *

A Note from Below: This is my first major work, the longest story I've ever tried to write. I don't know how often I can update, but I'll do my best to make it real regular-like. Do me a favor and review if you can, but try not to flame me too much. cute face


	2. Chapter One: Welcome To Stormwind

A Note From Above: The first chapter! Whoopee! Yeah, I know the chapters are a little short, but I'm working on the next few. Hopefully I'll manage to lengthen them in time. Don't forget, send in those reviews!

Another Note: I reiterate, I don't own Blizzard or WoW (curse it!) so no thugs, ok?

* * *

**Chapter One: Welcome To Stormwind**

His robes were worn, dusty from the long trek. Where there had once been white, now was grey, the red and yellow faded by the hot sun. A large bamboo-bowl hat obscured his features, with only a fine mesh in the front of the hat permitting sight. His eyes (what could be seen through the mesh) twinkled with some unseen merriment, a disarming, infectious happiness, as if he was laughing at the world, inviting you to join in.

He carried a long walking staff, plain and simple, made of stout ironwood, a wood not seen often in these parts. Many a bandit and highwayman had become acquainted with that staff, and the way the young traveler held it, showed he could wield it with no uncertain skill. A small rucksack was slung across his shoulder, also covered in a healthy coaring of dust. Around his neck was the only ornamentation he permitted himself, a long, beaded rosary. To the untrained eye, it seemed to shimmer, reflecting the light passing through Elwynn's mighty trees. But to those "in the know", it glimmered with hidden power.

All this the sullen gate guard took in with a glance, logging it away within his small brain. The stranger seemed harmless enough. Heck, he seemed even likeable, but appearances could be decieving. He decided to fall back on standard procedure (something he pretty much always did).

"Alright, mate, what's yer business in Stormwind City?"the guard barked, feeling very manly and intimidating in his armor. Yes, every inch the perfect guard. The fact that every other city guard looked muchly the same as him crossed his mind for a second, but he pushed it away. Surely none of them had his intimidating appearance, yes, surely this stranger would see his clear superiority and be cowed. He looked down on the small monk. Surprisingly, the little traveler hadn't even budged, just looking up at the guard curiously, as if he'd never seen this kind of thing before. The guard's eyes narrowed, this wasn't supposed to happen. "C'mon, speak up! I 'aven't got all day, y'know!"

The priest cocked his head to one side, continuing to study the large (and rude) officer in front of him. The guard felt uncomfortable, he hated being scrutinized by this small fellow. Why, he wagered he could pick this monk up, squeeze him into a ball, and fling him away as easy as that! The thought that this little man could just stand there, seemingly unimpressed, started to turn his face red. Then, just as he was about to ask a third time, the monk spoke himself.

"Who is this one?" He asked quietly. "Merely a wandering monk, good sir. Bringing succour to those in need of spiritual aid." He spoke softly, almost too quiet to hear. His voice was soothing, however, relaxing. The guard felt himself overwhelmed by a feeling of serenity and peace. Yes, this was a good man, he wouldn't cause any trouble. A nagging feeling that he should be doing something appeared in his mind, but he couldn't pin it down.

"If it wouldn't be much trouble, could you let this unworthy one pass?" The monk's voice cut through his reverie. What was he doing? Oh yes, letting the monk through. He was clear. The guard snapped to attention, feeling proud and important again. This little priest obviously could see his importance, speaking in such a respectful manner. "Roight, lil' man, oi'll let ya in. But see that ya don't cause any trouble, y'hear?"

The short priest bowed politely. "Thank you, kind sir. May the Light protect you and your kin." The guard tapped his helmet in response, then leaned back on the wall, smiling, as the small sandals went pattering into the city. Within five minutes, he had completely forgotten the little monk even existed.

* * *

A Note From Below: Well, that was interesting. I wonder who that little monk is, eh? And what does he have to do with those shadowy figures earlier...


	3. Chapter Two: Varag's Splendid Alehouse

A Note From Above: Thanks to the first reviewer! Here's the first really long chapter, introducing a most interesting place. (Yes, I know Varag's Splendid Alehouse doesn't exist ingame, but bear with me. Stormwind's a big city, there's probably a few out of the way inns kicking around). Again, I don't own Blizzard or WoW. Though I will never stop trying!

* * *

**Chapter Two: Varag's Splendid Alehouse**

Remiel permitted himself a small smile underneath his hat, as he passed the gigantic statues lining the Valley of Heroes. "Guards seem to be rude no matter where you go..." he thought, admiring the huge elven monument.

His smile widened as he remembered the insanely quick attitude adjustment that guard had taken, courtesy of a little mind shuffle. Those mental lessons he had taken up north could really come in handy sometimes. Then, his merriness fled as the consequences of his actions became apparent.

"This one is always breaking tenets..." the young priest sighed, his smile disappearing. He fingered the rosary around his neck. That little stunt he pulled back there would be another three hours forgiveness prayers...and his knees always hurt after those. He pulled the collar of his robe up as a chilly breeze came blowing through.

Remiel's face brightened for a moment. Tweaking the guard's head was just a minor infraction, perhaps the Light would forgive him just this once? The monk looked up, grinning.

It started raining.

* * *

The yong monk hurried through the streets of the Trade District, holding his hat against the bucketing rain and hurricane winds, amplified by the narrow streets and alleys. Each new gust rocked him, sending his robes billowing. While that may look cool, it also threatened to bowl the poor priest over. He clutched his hat tighter as the rain pelted him.

"Perhaps that is a no." He muttered, eyeing every hanging sign, trying to spot shelter. Trias' Cheese, Stormwind Auction House, Arms and Armor, the large signs proclaimed, swinging back and forth in the rain and wind. Other citizens, caught outside when the storm hit, hurried by, hoping to get to their own homes and hearths. Many took no notice of the soaked priest, several bumping him in their hurry, nearly knocking him down.

A sudden thump from behind, and Remiel was sent spiraling to the ground, his hat staying on only by sheer luck. A black figure moved on swiftly, ignoring the downed monk. Remiel almost cursed as he pulled himself off the hard cobblestones, groaning as he felt a twinge in one leg. "If you wished to punish this one, the message has been **definitely** recieved..." the young monk sighed to the air, lifting his staff from the gutter where it had fallen.

A light from a nearby doorway drew his attention, and a short figure in a long white nightshirt motioned to him. "C'mon! A'fore yeh catch yer death o' chill!" A thick northern accent roared over the storm. Remiel hurried forward, nearly falling again on his sandals, blinded by the rain. Suddenly, he felt a thick, callused hand take his arm. The hand pulled him forward, propelling the monk into a dry hallway, lit by a sudden lightning strike. The door then swung shut, leaving him in darkness.

* * *

"Saw yeh pushin' yer way up the street from the winder." A voice came from the dark. Remiel looked about, but the hallway was so dark he couldn't see a thing. A striking sound and a candle flame flickered into existence, giving a little light. "Down 'ere, lad."

The monk pulled his hat up and looked down, staring into a merry face with twinkling eyes, and a huge bushy beard. "Welcome teh Varag's Splendid Alehouse, friend!" The dwarf laughed, a slightly manic grin on his face. He extended a short, muscular arm.

Remiel smiled and shook the proffered hand. "This one thanks you, the night is indeed bitter." The tavernkeeper raised an eyebrow at the monk's quiet and respectful tone. "Aye, 'tis bitter cold." His face brightened even more. "The perfect time fer a pint! It'll warm yer bones, foller me!". The candle bobbed up and down as the dwarf waddled down the hallway, Remiel quickly "foller-ing".

"This one was seeking shelter, but it seemed there was none to be found." the monk explained as they entered the common room. The dwarf moved to a few nearby wall lanterns and began lighting them up. "Stormwind's a busy city, lad. Inns fill up damned quick 'round 'ere. 'Cept mine, o'course." He added, slightly irked. Remiel nodded sympathetically, sitting in an offered chair by the bar. "Yer lucky I was passin' by me upstairs winder when ah did. Yeh'd have spent a cold and wet oot there tonight, laddie buck!". He strode (or at least, the dwarvish equivalent to a stride) to Remiel's side. "The name's Varag, by the way, Varag Madhand. Tavernkeeper an' adventurer!" He shook his finger threateningly. "'An if yeh say I'm retired, yeh can sleep in the street!"

The young monk laughed at that final statement. "This one wouldn't dare to impugn your choice of career, good dwarf. Especially with the weather being like that!" The two chuckled, Varag walking behind the bar and proffering a pair of mugs filled with a fizzing brown liquid. "Good dwarven stout, lad! Be sure teh put 'air on yer chest, that's fer sure!" laughed the dwarf, taking a long pull from his mug. Remiel eyed the mug skeptically. His monk code did forbid alcohol, after all. But then again, the code also said hospitality was something to be treasured. And wouldn't it offend hospitality if he did not accept his host's offer?

Taking all those into account, and taking the mug in a hand, he also took a long draught of the brew. A few more mouthfuls and the young priest decided he liked it. "This unworthy one's name is Remiel, good sir." He took another gulp. "Remiel Sharpe." Varag nodded and refilled his mug. "Sharpe, eh? That's a good, strong name..."

Remiel laughed at that statement, pushing his empty mug away. Hospitality was one thing, but it wouldn't pay to overindulge. "As is Madhand, friend. Is this one correct in assuming it is a title, rather than a name?" The dwarf snorted into his mug. "Aye, 'tis a respected title, lad. Me skills with an axe were so famed durin' the recent war, ah was considered half mad! So they named me Madhand, and ah guess it stuck. Fat lot o' good it's done me." He cursed loudly to punctuate the statement.

Remiel cocked his head to the side, quizzically. "You have problems?" Varag's attitude changed quickly. "Oh? Oh, no, nae at all, lad. No problems here!" He said hastily. "Nothin' ah cannae handle. Here, let me find yeh a room." the dwarf coughed and grabbed a nearby lantern. "Yeh need shelter, so I'll give yeh a room cheap. Say ten silver?"

The young monk nodded, feeling the effects of both the storm and the long journey, and he yawned. "A fair price." he agreed, following Varag upstairs. The stairs creaked with each step, the aged wood protesting the weight of both dwarf and human. "They're good rooms, warm an' comfortable." the dwarf said as they entered the upstairs hallway. "Fireplaces and wash basins, and fer an extra shill yeh can have breakfast brought up ter yeh." Remiel, half asleep, merely nodded.

Varag shoved open a door, revealing a small room. It was no bigger than the average closet, but it did have a cot, a small dresser, a fireplace, and a conveniently placed wash-basin. A lightning bolt lit the sky outside the small window. Remiel bowed, offering numerous thanks to the dwarf, and Varag merely waved his hand. "It was as if he was in a great hurry to leave." thought the priest, relaxing on the cot. "Perhaps this one has arrived…at an inopportune time…"

Within minutes the traveler was out like a light.

* * *

A Note From Below: An interesting situation, eh? What is Varag so nervous about? Who was the black figure that knocked poor Remiel over? Why is Remiel in Stormwind to begin with? Tune in next time to find out! Same WoW time, same WoW channel!


End file.
